I am but One Soldier
by cottontaildwarf
Summary: "What's a bastard doing in the army?" "Well, where else could he go?" Percy-centric. Request fic. Multiple ships, set in Alexander-verse. Slash in earlier chapters. On Hiatus.
1. α

**I**

"And who is that boy over there?" The light-haired Greek gestured to the other side of the hall with his wine goblet-wielding hand. "I saw him fight alongside you, Cassander, and found him to be of much higher skill."

"Haha," The other blond gave a sarcastic laugh to his old time friend. "Although I disagree with your comparison, he _is_ frighteningly skilled. I could see the Persians trying to subtly go further and further away from us. And, to answer your first question," He took a swig of the plum wine, "he's one of the new recruits that came in last week. I don't know his name."

Both of them stopped talking to observe the black-haired male sitting on the other side of the circle, watching as performers danced their way around him and other especially attractive members of the Greek army.

From here they could see his hair was long – almost to his shoulders – and a mess of black curls with a single mysterious white streak. He was fairer skinned than most, so probably from the west side of the country. From what they could tell from what wasn't hidden beneath his robes, he was a fairly tall boy, lean but still well-built, but was clearly younger than most of the others here.

It seemed most of the new recruits were younger than usual.

"Should I call him over here?"

"Don't be greedy, Alexander," Cassander's eyes never left the boy, "Don't you have plenty others to warm your bed tonight? Leave me a morsel."

"You can hardly call that a morsel." A Persian dancer on his right poured him a refill. "And don't be so rude to your king."

"How I hate it when you use your status against me."

"What else is it for?"

"Alright, call him over." The general consented, scooting closer to his king on the glorious mattress set out for them.

Alexander took a moment to grin at his drunk comrade before catching the eye of the boy watching the dancers with bright eyes. He waved him over and soon, the boy was weaving his way through the crowd towards them.

"Cassander, you qualling harpy, I had my eye on him first." A brunette fell ungracefully on his rear down onto the cushioned stairs.

"Hush, Antigonus, you've had too much wine." He pulled his fellow high-ranked officer beside him and the three hurried to make themselves look official before the boy arrived.

He stopped about two steps down and kneeled before them. "My king, and sirs,"

They gave a collective hum in fake nonchalant-ness.

"Stand, boy, so that I may see your face." The boy obeyed immediately, standing in his battle-ready stance. Alexander looked the young man up and down. All three took in the fact that he had, not the brown eyes that were so common amongst their people, but bright green ones of the north. "What is your name?"

"Perseus, sir." His voice was as deep as Cassander's, so he was not that young.

Antigonus frowned. "No last name?"

Perseus opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by some drunk eavesdropping official. "A bastard in the royal army!"

"Are you a whore's son, then?" Another joined.

"Took off after his mother, I see,"

The entire company collapsed into drunk laughter at the boy's expense and, reading the situation, he laughed lightly along with them.

"Let the boy answer!" Alexander said, earning the respectful silence of the other men.

"No, sir." The green-eyed Adonis replied finally.

"I see." By now the army's short intoxicated attention spans were directed elsewhere, towards the new dancers lined up in the square in front of them. "Come closer." The soldier obeyed, kneeling before his king. They were less than an arm's length away from each other and Cassander, unlike Antigonus, was managing to do a good job of hiding his gawking.

"You're not such a bad specimen," Percy smiled to himself at the great king's comment. "Have you taken a lover?"

The king was never known for his tact when under the influence of alcohol and (by the looks of it) lust, and so it was not too much of a surprise to hear such a personal question pass through his lips.

Percy glanced up at the king in surprise and found himself a hairs width from his lips. "I…"

"Alexander! The dancers!" Cassander quickly read the danger and changed the subject. He pointed at some exotic dance the darker-skinned females were performing for the other generals and Alexander, thoroughly engrossed, sat up to look.

"Run, boy," Antigonus suggested, nudging the boy back to where he came from. "Before he remembers to take you to his chambers."

The black-haired boy laughed and obeyed his superior. "Well then." He bowed and wove his way through the excited crowd back to his clique of fresh soldiers.

Perseus sat back down in the front row and continued to watch the performances the foreign girls put on for them but could not get used to the feeling of people watching him. First, it was the king and his company, but they had (thankfully) distracted themselves; now, he could feel it coming from behind him (but he couldn't very well just turn around and check).

When half of the hall had fallen asleep in their seats and the others had busied themselves in random chambers throughout the palace, Perseus decided that it was finally the time for him to find a place to spend the night.

For a palace so large it seemed there weren't nearly enough rooms for half the army to roost comfortably, with or without pleasure companions, and everywhere he went he either stumbled into a dead drunk or a room full of _very_ active soldiers and dancers.

He resigned himself to sleep on one of the benches in the main courtyard, where the chilly air untamed by small fires chased away many a sleepy warrior. Laying down on the bench, he stared up at the moon for a while – this big, white, glowing mass in the sky above him – and shivered at the thought of Artemis staring down at him, a male.

He shuddered and sat back up.

"Still awake?" The king's most favoured general stepped out of the shadows of the pillars and stood next to the bench. "May I?" At Perseus' nod, he seated himself. "Hephaestion," He greeted, and the green-eyed male bowed slightly.

"Perseus, sir."

"No need for any of that." He waved off the honourific. "Right now, we are both just tired soldiers. I am assuming you are tired?"

"Yes, actually. But I can't seem to find an empty bed," He replied.

The brunette chuckled, a low, deep sound that lasted only a few moments. It made him smile a bit. "Well, I _do_ have my own room as a high general. I don't mind sharing, if you're willing." He stood and began walking.

Percy followed him (assuming he was supposed to) and focused his shock at the general's large back. Did he understand and blatantly ignore the implications of such a statement?

When they arrived at the room it seemed Percy's racing thoughts were all for naught and they literally just shared the bed. After freezing stiff for a few minutes, unsure of how one was to sleep politely with such a high ranking official, he relaxed when hearing the brunette's amused laugh.

"You don't have to be so stiff."

"Sorry, sir."

This earned the soldier another laugh before they both lapsed into silence and, eventually, sleep.

_**P**_

"Took you long enough," A taller blond stretched out in the empty clearing clad in only underclothes, looking ready for a brawl. "Found yourself a night friend, I assume?"

"You're not jealous, are you Jason?" The half-asleep soldier dodged the sandal launched in his direction with ease. "Don't resort to violence so quickly, love."

"Only for you, dearest." The blond smiled sweetly, standing up straight. "Hurry up and stretch. I feel confident that I can win today."

"But you always win," The green-eyed boy whined, stretching anyway.

"No I don't, you halfwit, you just always surrender when the situation gets mildly difficult."

Completely ignoring what his best friend just said, "Alright, I've already resigned myself to the role of the outlet of your unrelieved sexual frustration. Come at me."

"Wha–" Trying to force his embarrassed blushed down, the warrior glared and lunged at the black-haired jester before him.

Just as with the sandal, Perseus dodged with unfathomable ease. "You're so very predictable this early in the morning," He yawned. "Besides; let's turn this into a real battle with swords, yeah?"

"You know we're not allowed," Jason managed a half-tackle on the sleepy soldier, only to be forced to the ground when his target jumped onto his back. Jason grunted as he hit the ground with the other boy on top. "Why are you only interested when swords are involved?"

His brawlmate turned in his grip so that it looked more like the two were hugging on the ground than anything else. "There are a hundred different ways that statement can be interpreted." Jason blushed and pushed his friend off of him as the other boy laughed at his reaction. "You are always a pleasure to tease."

"Glad someone's getting something out of this."

"Oh, love, you're building up resistance to my advances! I'm helping y–" He dropped down to all fours, barely saving his face from the mutilation they might have faced had he not been fast enough. "Bloody Zeus, that could have _hurt_ me."

"You have a filthy tongue." The blue-eyed boy frowned disapprovingly. "Did no one ever teach you the right way to speak?"

"And don't you know me well enough to know the answer to that question?" Jason's face fell and he opened his mouth to apologise. "Good gods, Jason, I was _joking_. Calm thy majestic self for just one moment, I didn't mean to make you sorry." Perseus shook his head.

"I'm sorry anyway, Percy."

His lip curled up at the childhood pet name. "Oh so we're using that again, are we?" At Jason's lack of reaction, Percy tried for something he _knew_ would rile the slightly-taller boy up. "At least it's better than your pet name for the baker's girl."

Cue jaw drop. "Wha – wha – wai – oh my _gods_, have you been following me?"

"No. I didn't need to. It was actually very obvious what with the sudden dramatic increase in the amount of bread you were bringing home each day; who in _Hades_ even buys three loaves of wheat bread in three hours? If you had wanted to keep it a secret, you were doing a god awful job of it."

"Sto – st – shuuuuush, please!" The blond hissed.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Alright you sheep; let's just continue on with this play date we were having here."

"_Sparring session_."

"I don't care enough to correct myself. Shut up and hit me."

"Alri–"

"What is going _on _here?"

Both soldiers jumped at the booming voice and, upon seeing the owner, lined up and stood perfectly straight, suddenly very awake and very serious. "Sir!"

The light brown-haired general came down the steps with a glass of some yellowish liquid in his hand. "What are your names?"

"Jason Graece, sir."

"Perseus, sir." How inconvenient it was to not have a last name.

"Well? What are the two of you doing out here by yourselves?"

"We were just sparring, sir," Jason explained hurriedly. 'We weren't fighting or anything like that."

At this, the older general broke out into a smile. "A spar? This will be most amusing." The two boys shared a look but before either of them could say anything, Antigonus called over the other roused generals. "I've found us some entertainment!" He called, and soon they had an audience of five.

Perseus mouthed a quick thanks for the night before to the calmest of the generals, and the quiet man simply smiled back at him. Beside Hephaestion sat the king, Alexander, the two generals Cassander and Crateros, and then Antigonus sat himself on the steps to the empty courtyard.

Jason and Percy, seeing no way out of this, turned to each other to begin an actual match.

Before they began, (none too quietly) the oldest general Crateros leaned over to Cassander and asked, "The green-eyes is the whore's son?"

Percy's eyebrow twitched. "That's me, sir." He smiled before turning back with a blank expression to his sparmate. Jason shuddered – he was going to get a real beating now, seeing as how riled Percy had gotten with that one comment. He mentally sent up a prayer to Zeus before settling into a standard stance.

Percy stood with his right leg forwards, his arms at his side, looking menacing only to the boy who had seen him fight before.

"Ready? And…begin!"

Before the word was completely out of Antigonus' mouth Percy had launched himself off his left leg and at Jason.

The blond, ready for this attack, whipped out an arm to defend, but Percy seemed to now he was going to do exactly that; he grabbed the arm and whipped it around him the painful way.

In the same instant, he brought one leg up around the blue-eyed boy's neck and smashed him down to the ground on his stomach, sitting on his back.

The entire match was over in less than three seconds, ending with Jason's bruised wrist, cut lip, and broken nose.

"That was very interesting," Cassander noted, staring at the awkward Percy standing by the side as Hephaestion tended to his friend's injuries. "Tell me, where did you learn this kind of fighting? It definitely isn't the same style they teach at our military training camps."

"I, err," Percy ran a hand through his hair. "Umm, I learned from fighting a lot when I was younger. I lived in Sparta and was the one providing for my mother and I, so…"

"A touching tale." Cassander clapped a hand on the boy's back with a smile on his face. "I am sure your mother is very proud."

"Yes, well, I wouldn't know. She was sold when I was seven," He informed, and the entire group fell silent. "I'm sorry, that was actually something horrible to say, wasn't it?"

"No, no, it's just…" Alexander didn't know what to say. Usually it was Hephaestion who was good with words and sticky situations, but all he did was give the young soldier a sympathetic look. Maybe that was all that the boy needed.

"Jason, are you fixed now?" Percy redirected their attention to the wounded man.

"I was never broken, imp." The blond stood and thanked the quiet general for his help.

It was about the perfect time for them to finish; a horn sounded from somewhere on the far side of the palace to notify all that breakfast would be served who-knows-where.

"Sit with us," Hephaestion spoke for the first time today, leading the group towards sustenance.

_Thanks for reading._

_~ctd_


	2. β

**II**

"I believe the time has come for us to name your feelings right now, my king."

"What are you talking about?" The golden-haired king tore his gaze away from the boy sitting two tables away and to the goat leg devouring comrade to his right.

"Well, we can't just call it a harmless little crush," Antigonus added from his right side, drinking more wine.

"I think it crossed those lines a long time ago."

"What are you talking about? I demand to know what you are talking about!" He slammed his glass down on the table, accidentally shushing everyone within a ten foot radius.

"Carry on, it's nothing," Cassander assure, before returning his attention to his childhood friend. "This – what should we call it? – unhealthy obsession with Perseus, the blessed boy, is what we want to discuss."

"_Me_?"

"Who in _Hades_ else?"

"Mind your language, Antigonus." Cassander scolded the old grump before continuing. "Yes, you. And if you tell me right now that you aren't absolutely lusting for him I swear by all that is holy in this world I will pummel you."

The king sat cross-legged beneath the table. "It is not that extreme."

"Your body language got so defensive just now that there is absolutely nothing you can say to reason with me. Just accept it, and we will help you through it. Simple."

"I already _know_ how to get past it."

"By fucking him?"

"_Language!_" Cassander launched a spoon at the general on the other side of the king.

Alexander, completely unfazed by the foul language just used in his presence and in his name, sat in thought. "Well, that actually was my first option."

"Your only option, you mean. Your lust-crazed self usually comes up with nothing else."

"I will have your _head_, twit!" Cassander swiped at his old friend and almost hit the king, who was still lost in thought.

"I didn't curse that time!"

"But that was a vulgar statement you just made!"

"This entire conversation is vulgar!"

"Alright, you bickering lovers, just tell me what I am to do." He ignored the glares he had received and waited for an answer from his trusted advisors and generals.

"Why don't you get to know the boy first?"

"And have an actual conversation with him, hmm?"

"I've already had a conversation with him."

"You've mixed up 'conversation' and 'interrogation', my king." Cassander informed, wagging a clean bone in his direction. "This is where both people talk about things, instead of one side questioning and the other answering."

Antigonus groaned.

On the next table, Jason and Percy could not make out a word of what was being said.

"Do you think they're talking about us?"

"I highly doubt it, Jason. Eat your damned goat."

"I really feel like they're looking over here and talking at the same time."

"It's _all_ in your head. Oh my Zeus are these _blueberries_?"

"How are you being so calm right now?"

"You're being obsessive enough to rival the king right now."

Someone laughed. Both boys looked up to see the king's favourite sit down before them, chuckling at Percy's thoughtless comment.

"Rude." Jason coughed subtly-not-really.

"Excuse me." Percy kneed Jason's thigh before stealing his blueberries. "Thank you for inviting us to eat with you, sir."

Hephaestion shook his head. "No no; thank you for providing my friends with entertainment this morning. Though I must really apologize for what Crateros said."

Percy's eyes flashed. "There really is no need; it's nothing I have not heard before."

"But it is rude nonetheless, and I apologize for his misbehavior." He gave a small bow of the head and Percy accepted the apology. "How is your wrist?" He asked, glancing at Jason's colouring joint. "It looks painful."

"It's noth–"

"Oh don't worry about him, sir. He's such a brute he can barely feel it." Percy took the moment to dodge a spoon thrown from the other table. "Well, it seems they've gotten excited."

"They're always like this," Hephaestion explained. "When they're not drinking, bedding, or warring, they are always arguing."

"The epitomes of manliness." Percy observed a little louder than he meant, earning the snorts of half the room. "But you're not like them?"

"No." He pushed a lock of long hair – one of the many differences between him and the rest of the defenders of Thebes – behind his ear. "But they are my comrades, and I love them nonetheless."

"Of course."

After a beat, Hephaestion finally upped the courage to ask the two before him, "So, are the two of you a couple?"

"_What_?"

Percy actually found Jason's reaction funnier than the actual question and had to take a moment to let himself laugh. "No, sir. He's only a sucker for women, see; he's got his own back in Macedon."

"Oh, I see. Forgive me, that was a personal question."

"Not at all."

Jason excused himself, resolved not to be embarrassed anymore in front of such a high ranking official. Percy watched him go with a smile.

"What about you, sir?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Who warms your bed at night?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"As of last night, I could say you." He laughed at Percy's sudden sheepishness. "But I do have someone, if that's what you're asking. Some nights."

"Is that so? Is it too much for me to ask who?" The green-eyed boy gave a knowing smile. "Although I already have a plausible idea of who it is."

The brunet shook his head. "You seem to be getting awfully comfortable with your superiors, young Perseus." He took a bite out of his own food.

Percy coughed. "Yes. Excuse me." He stood just as Crateros made his way to their table and sat down beside Hephaestion. "Sir. Sir," He nodded to each of them formally before picking up his empty tray and vacating his seat.

"Traitor," Perseus sang when he found Jason some time later, watching a mud fight between two others in their squadron.

The blond looked up at him with mock annoyance. "I wanted to escape before you delved any further into my private life. What about you? I'd expected you'd be with the king's advisor for _quite_ some time."

"You really _are_ jealous." Laughing, the sea green-eyed boy sat on an empty spot in the dirt.

After watching a few matches, the boy found himself to be very, very bored. Leaning back so he was propped up on his elbows, he looked up into the partly cloudy sky. "It's a beautiful day."

"Hmm," Jason agreed.

"A shame we have to spend it watching these mutts get it on in the dirt."

"Oi!"

Percy sat up and smiled at the fighter who had protested. "Do not worry, Charis, you're still beautiful in my heart." He rolled over to avoid getting slopped in the face with hot mud. "That was strangely immature of you."

"Are you just constantly looking for a fight?" Jason sighed.

"My love, I cannot bear to offend this glorious day by wrestling with men in her presence."

"What would you rather do?"

"Wrestle with women." Some older veterans and a few dancers laughed. "Does anyone know if we're allowed to venture out into the city?"

"You'll have to ask the king," Someone replied.

"Ask for all of us! I could do with a little man-to-woman action myself!" More manly laughter.

"So we've already established that I'm going to ask him?" Percy hmphed, stood, and dusted himself off. "Wait for me, all of you. I don't want to be the only one to suffer the punishment for asking to leave my post."

"We've just conquered the border cities. There really is no post for us to leave." Jason said. "But you really should ask."

"Just so you can bring back another loaf of flax bread?" He made his exit before the blond could shoot him a reply.

As he padded down the marble walkway, he found that today's festivities seemed much less lust-driven than they had been the night before – though the alcohol intake remained just about the same. How much wine one Greek palace could hold, he didn't know.

He was stopped on his way to the main hall, where he assumed most of the generals would be lounging, by the king's young page. "Lord Perseus?"

"Just Perseus, thank you." The soldier smiled.

The boy seemed less intimidated by the act. "Your majesty requests your presence in his chambers, immediately."

Clearly, the boy did not realize the connotations of his command. Percy's eyes bulged. "_Me?_"

"Yes, sir."

_**P**_

The black-haired soldier's hand lingered on the door handle. Mentally, he debated whether it was worth it not going to the king. He would be found and punished for disobeying an order, and (if he was overreacting), would be stunted in his going up the military ladder.

But if he went to the king and he wasn't over thinking things, and it really _was_ how he thought it was, then – well. It would be a little awkward, for sure. Weird. Completely-not-really unexpected. But really, he wasn't that bad looking. _At all._

He mentally wiped his dirty mind before pushing open the door, stepping in, and leaving it a crack open behind him.

The king hadn't seemed to notice him enter – he was standing on one side of the room, alternating with going through books and scrolls and taking chugs of his sweet wine.

Percy cleared his throat. "You called for me, sir?"

The king looked up. "That, I did." He set his cup down and sauntered towards the recruit. Judging by the sway in his walk, he had been drinking for a while. He stopped a half-step away from the boy and looked him up and down. "Hmmm," He rubbed his chin. "You're not too young."

Seeing where this was going, the green-eyed soldier took a step back. "My king-"

"Enough with the honourifics," His lips crashed against Perseus'.

Percy made a noise of surprise before he was pushed up against the door and barred on either side from escape. The king put one hand on the door to push it closed and the other on the boy's hip to keep him still. His smaller hands pushed against the king's chest, trying to get him off, but his attempts were futile.

When they broke apart, Percy leaned his head back against the doors of the chamber. It didn't seem as if the king would be letting up on him soon. "I really must be going, sir," he said.

The grip on his hip tightened. "Oh? Might I ask where?"

"Well, actually," Perseus kept one hand on the king's chest to keep some sort of distance between them. "I was going to ask you if it was alright to go into the city today. For the rest of the soldiers."

"They'd better be back by nightfall," the king replied, leaning in impatiently.

The black-haired Adonis glanced to the side, where the other door was still open a crack. "Well, thank you, sir. I'd better go and…tell…them." He managed to weave out of the king's hold before slipping out of the room.

Alexander paused to stare at the half-open door before he slammed a fist against the wall in frustration. A body like that-

"I didn't expect you'd make your move so soon," Antigonus entered, glancing at the doors. "But it looks as if you couldn't quite get your hands on him." He grinned.

"What have you come here for, Antigonus?" Alexander growled, then tried to interest himself in whatever his general was saying.

Percy thanked the gods that Antigonus arrived when he had because he was sure the king would have chased him until he returned to the room. He wiped his wet mouth while walking briskly back to the open courtyard.

"Hey, it took you long enough," One of the sweating recruits called as the soldier hopped down the steps. "Had a little fun on the way here?"

Percy didn't answer, leaving the taunter speechless. "Wait, really?"

"We're actually allowed to leave the walls until night falls." Percy yanked his blond friend off the ground. "Which means you all have time to go visit your mothers and lovers and the _lovely_ ladies at the whorehouse, if you have neither."

A cheer went up as the group all stood and marched to the nearest palace gate.

"Night fall!" Percy called after them, dragging Jason in the direction of the city. "Jason, honey, introduce me to your love." The blond gave him a suspicious glare. "What am I going to do? I can't get between the two of you. Besides, I'm not as inclined towards women."

He rolled his blue eyes but obediently led the way towards the popular bakery.

As they passed by in soldier attire, people began to cheer and greet them randomly, congratulating them on the recent seizure of the border cities. People who recognized them called the pair over to their shops, giving them hugs and gifts and blessings.

"Which daughter is she?" Percy asked conversationally as they turned a corner into the open air market.

The scents of fresh vegetables and ground spices pinched their noses as they passes. Hundreds of vendors reached out to them, shouting deals in Greek at the potential customers. Other farmers pulled heavy carts through the narrow dirt streets, attracting the attentions of different old ladies wielding coin purses and canes.

"The younger one."

"Pyras?"

Jason stopped in the middle of the street. "You _know_ her?"

"Barely." Percy continued to walk, leaving Jason skipping to catch up to him. Both of them waved away the dust clouds they kicked up. "I always liked her better than her sister. But don't tell them I said that."

"You're the first person to say that. Usually people like Dreas better because she's…flashier."

"Why would I prefer someone who rivaled my own ego to someone who didn't?"

The blue-eyed foot soldier rolled his eyes. "Right."

"No, really, the girl has an ego to rival the king. I didn't say that."

"Who am I going to tell?" Jason stopped in front of the doorway leading inside a busy stall. "I haven't seen her in a month." He stared at the door.

Percy looked between Jason, then the door, and then Jason again. "For Posiedon's sake, get a move on with it," He shoved the taller boy impatiently through the doorway, where their noses were met with the smell of baking yeast.

It was positively roasting inside the stall, with three people milling about through the stall window and to the fire oven, pulling out, wrapping, and selling the bread. On the side closest to the entrance, two girls sat resting on a table and drinking water.

At their entrance, the shorter, darker skinned one stood. She was wearing loose clothes and had a band tied around her head, giving her a very comfortable look. She stood at the sight of the blond, eyes only for him."Jason!"

"Piper!" The blond greeted back as they embraced.

_Thanks for reading._

_~ctd_


	3. γ

**III**

"'_Piper_'?" The green-eyed boy raised an eyebrow, still standing in the doorway.

The other girl, a long-haired fairer woman in tighter clothes and wearing much more makeup, came up beside Perseus. "Her pet name." She explained. "Hello, Perseus."

"Drew," Percy nodded in greeting. "How've you been?"

"Great." She flashed him a smile. "How was the battlefield?" She traced a scar on his collar bone, already very touchy.

The shorter soldier crossed his arms but didn't move away. "Nothing too serious. You all seem to be pretty busy," He gestured in the direction of the window, where bodiless arms waved money around and waited for bread to replace the coins.

"Ever since father got your recipes and actually decided to try them out, business has been booming." She replied, looking over at the crowd.

"We'll soon have enough money to open a shop closer to the castle, and then we might even be able to cater to the royal family!" It seemed as if the lovers had finished embracing. "It's great to see you, Perseus." Pyras – _Piper_ – gave the boy a friendly hug.

"Likewise." He pecked her on the cheek and they both grinned as Jason fumed from the side. "Oh, this is going to be _extremely_ amusing."

"Don't get any ideas," Her partner growled, pulling her away from Percy. "Don't you have somewhere to go?" He glared pointedly at his best friend, and then the doorway.

"Right. I have to go smell books, or something." The girls laughed and waved as he made his exit.

As he continued his way through the market, Perseus checked his pockets to make sure he had enough money for some kind of food or drink (thank Apollo he actually had some money tucked into one side of his robe) and began to look around the different booths.

"Perseus! Have you come to rob me again?" One old man joked as he set out more apples onto the counter.

Percy laughed and bowed slightly. "Old man, you really think so badly of me? I've learned better."

"Well then, mind helping me with my business? I can boast the catering to the soldiers of Macedon!"

He stared at the apples for a moment, wondering if it was worth it to buy apples and not as large of a traditional meal. "Oh, alright." He muttered, taking a single apple and in its place dropping two copper coloured coins.

"Come back soon, alright?"

"Hmm!" Percy replied with a mouthful of juicy green apple, already walking away.

As he continued down the road, he found himself meeting people who had probably lived there since before he was born to whom he had never before spoken. A cheese maker here, a pharmacist there, even a village doctor he'd never heard of.

He wondered if everyone was like this; living in a city in such close quarters with others, but never saying more to each other than a single 'hello'. They might not really have felt the need to, he supposed, munching thoughtfully with a hand in his pocket.

After finding nothing to do, he made his way towards a fountain at the edge of the market.

Some light-clothed children chased each other around it, laughing and screaming in excitement as they played whatever sort of game they had come up with. A few women, most likely the mothers, sat on the worn marble benches around the fountain and gossiped heatedly amongst themselves. Like the broken fountain, the women would occasionally break out in loud spurts of bubbling laughter.

Realising the danger of sitting nearby mud-slinging tots in a clean uniform, Percy changed his route to head instead towards one of the public libraries within the actual border of Athens.

For some reason he could never understand, he had always loved stories. Tales of heroes and villains and gods and battles, he had always been interested in since before he could speak. Although he found it difficult to sit in one place long enough to read a book, he enjoyed listening to the scholars and scribes who would come to teach random library-goers about anything they asked.

"—the Pharaoh, pronounced _fey-roh_, is the Eqyptian name for a king. Our king Alexander is the current Pharaoh of Egypt." An old man, hunched over the old podium, replied to a young aspiring historian seated in the front row of the makeshift class.

The entire group contained around forty or so people of all ages, men and women, and people of all races and religions. One dark-skinned woman with a scarf covering her hair raised her hand, and the old man nodded at her to speak.

"Sir," She spoke with an obvious accent that did little to muddle her speech, "I was just wanting to ask, is the equality that is practiced here also apparent in Egypt?" She spoke with perfect fluency.

"Your accent – are you Egyptian?"

"Half," She replied, nodding at the man.

"I'm assuming you have not been there since you were young, if you are asking an old Athenian this question."

She smiled. "No, not since I was a baby. But my mother tells me many stories."

The old man returned the gesture. "Well, in Egypt, they are trying to spread the ideas of equality more. There are still many differences based on the colour of one's skin, or their gender, or their religion, but it is fading with the migration of many other races. I suggest you visit within the reign of King Alexander, if you are thinking of visiting."

The old man turned to address the entire group after answering the question. Perseus seated himself in the back as he listened to the old wise man describe the world of Egypt.

"I am sure you have all heard of the beautiful architecture in the middle east, although much of it had been destroyed through wars and conquerdom," He continued, smiling.

This specific style of discussion also seemed to attract many here. A conversation where one spoke centrally, but anyone was able to contribute their knowledge at any time, was so different from how times used to be that people would join simply to be able to say 'I agree'.

In the larger cities, all the people seemed to be eager to learn from the older wiser men, who never turned people away and answered with the utmost sincerity, because education was so _available_. It was clear why Athenians always seemed so proud of their home city when elsewhere.

The best part was always randomly seeing some famous member of the royal family, or a renowned performer, or some respected scholar, pacing through the halls or examining a scroll on some subject. Everyone who came here came for the same purpose, and thus were all treated in the same way.

Perseus could remember the one time he'd met his king's tutor, the genius thinker and teacher Aristotle, at this very library when he was barely fourteen years old. He smiled to himself at the bittersweet memory.

_**P**_

"A soldier is one of the last kinds of people I ever expected to see in a library." The long-haired brunet said conversationally, walking side-by-side with the very soldier whom he spoke of.

"Don't you count as a soldier, sir?" The green-eyed male replied, with just enough sassiness so as not to count as being rude.

"I'm also a general and advisor to the king. It's in my job description to read and write and learn, even – _especially_ during times of peace such as these. My knowledge is the king's knowledge; that is to say, I must work hard to further it."

Perseus nodded, listening to his superior speak. It was his first time meeting the general outside of their time in the military. He always looked so worn and weary and so he was not expecting a young man, donning average citizen robes and a leather bag of books, looking every bit the aspiring scholar, to walk up to him and introduce himself as his squadron leader.

"Although much of what I've learned is always somehow relayed by one of the other trusted advisors, I must do my best in helping the king."

"A soldier better than us all." Percy grinned. "Strong, handsome, _and_ intelligent. Is there anything you cannot do?"

Hephaestion laughed. "I am flattered you think so, but I am not so well-endowed as you might think. I have my flaws."

"Few of them." He earned a smile for his persistence. "Are you returning to the palace now?"

The older man sidestepped to create space for an old man to walk through the marble-paved street. "I was going to, but I feel like eating something before returning to my post."

"Lazing on the job?"

"Something like that. Join me?"

"Oh, if you _insist_." He followed.

They walked for a few more blocks and the buildings began to get larger and more ornate, with prouder and richer people weaving their ways through the pillars and double doors. They were making good time. The sun was beginning to dip down behind the tallest of homes and the air was growing chillier, a sign the soldiers would have to return to the palace soon. A quick meal, and then back to work.

As they entered the richest part of the city, the leader of the pair ducked into a steaming establishment full of all kinds of people, most of whom were smoking from intricate foreign pipes and thus filled the room with their strangely sweet-smelling smoke.

They sat at a two-person table against a window at the back, furthest from anyone else in the room. Hephaestion set his bag beneath the table and sat across from his late-lunch partner.

"How is life as a soldier?" He asked, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear.

"I've gotten used to it," Percy replied. "I've actually been one since I was fifteen years old," He answered the questioning look.

"_Fifteen?_" The brown-eyed man's brows furrowed. "The legal age is sixteen, is it not?"

"At the time, it was the only option I had. There were no records or witnesses to prove otherwise, and so I joined under a false age." Perseus' companion listened intently as he spoke, prompting him to continue with his patient silence.

"It was difficult, at first, without a last name, but I had not joined with one so I could not make one up later on. I decided that, with my extreme skill that I would no doubt acquire—" this earned him a chuckle, "—I would make it so anyone who ridiculed me for my lack of heritage would be ashamed to lose to me."

A server brought them two plates – Percy guessed that Hephaestion was probably a regular – heaping with food, and the green-eyed boy was immediately glad that he had accepted the general's offer. Percy received water while his dinemate took wine.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" The brunet offered. After a moment of hesitation, he took a sip from Hephaestion's cup and found it to be the very same wine he had tasted on the king's lips a few hours ago. He frowned.

"Too strong?" Hephaestion asked concernedly.

Perseus waved him off and returned the drink. "I've just had too much wine today. I'll stay with water instead," He took a swig from his own cup to rid his mouth of the taste. No matter how hard he tried, it was difficult to forget the feeling of the king against him.

He'd gone much further before but still found he did not like the encounter, at all. His respect and admiration for the ruler had not diminished in the slightest; he just felt that he would always be a little more wary in his company.

He didn't realize he had stopped talking until he noticed Hephaestion's pondering gaze. "What?"

"You seem to be a much deeper person than you look." Percy tilted his head and bit his lip. It took the general a moment to realize how his statement could have been taken. "Oh my go – that was rude of me, I only meant–"

"No, no, its fine. I know what you meant. I get that a lot." He shoveled some food into his mouth and moaned immediately. "Hera in heaven, this food is _amazing_."

Hephaestion laughed. "I'm glad you like it. Many people are still reluctant to try foreign food, so I usually eat here alone."

"I'm sure you could get a beauty to accompany you if you wanted to. Or three," He said around his full mouth. Swallowing, he continued, "You're always by yourself, sir."

"I prefer it that way." At his companion's look, "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, nothing."

"What _is_ it?"

"Nothing at all, my lord."

At his stubbornness, the older man sighed loudly, then glanced outside. He muttered a curse, earning the surprised attention of the boy before him. "The sun's about to set. We need to get back to the palace."

Perseus repeated the curse, louder and with more fervor, before inhaling the dish and putting his entire stack of coins on the counter.

The brown-eyed man hadn't even swallowed his mouthful of a drink before he was grabbed by the arm and pulled out of the doorway. They broke into a sprint as soon as they hit the streets.

"Oooh, it's cold." Percy said, turning a corner with the general close behind. "I don't think it's that big of a deal for a soldier to be late, but a general? Sir, you're setting a terrible example for your underlings."

"Please, just concentrate on the road." Hephaestion asked, and Percy chuckled from the urgency in his voice.

The guard at the gates let them through without so much as a word and they stumbled up the steps in a breathless heap.

"Thanks for the meal!" Percy called, running in one direction.

"I'll treat you next time," Hephaestion promised, running in the other.

"Wait!" Percy turned and came a few steps back.

"What?"

"Your bag!"

"My bag?"

"Your _bag!_"

"Oh, my _bag!_"

Percy launched the leather satchel at its owner. "Bye!"

"Goodbye!"

Percy grinned at the sound of receding footsteps before being seized by the realization that he might actually be _punished_ if he did not arrive back at the soldiers' camp on time. He picked up speed and cut through the kitchens (much to the chefs' protests and anger).

Still a quarter of a palace away, he climbed up a random balcony and cut through the dancers' rooms – "oh, sorry, sorry, excuse me, _whoa_, sorry, hi, sorry, bye!" – and sprinted through the unnecessarily complicated labyrinth of hallways until he could smell the stench of sweet, sweet soldiers' quarters.

The room was literally right at the end of the hallway. He could have cried with relief when he saw that there was no one but their own section inside, all waiting for the commander.

And then, he bumped into none other than Antigonus outside.

"_Shit."_

_Thanks for reading._

_~ctd_


	4. δ

**IV**

"One week. One entire _week_. All hours of the day, _no _rest…I am going to die."

The blond rolled his eyes and kicked the boy sprawled out on his bed. "Get off, dimwit. I don't think I've ever met anyone as dramatic as you, and I used to live by a theatre."

His best friend rolled off the bed and onto the cold stone floor. "Gods of Olympus, what have I done for you to torment me so?" He threw his hands up into the air, only to have his roommate smack them back down.

"Sometimes, I really wonder how you ever made it this far with your personality."

"Clearly I am too precious to let go of." He curled up at another kick. "My love, you wound me. I am but a humble soul in need of help."

"Well, I can't do anything. I'm even lower ranked than you are." He put his hands on his hips. The entire room was clean no thanks to his roommate, and now he was the only thing blemishing its perfection. "And it's just a week of being a 'personal assistant'. You'll basically be a week-long page."

"And just think of what they'll make me dooooooo,"

"Who are you personally assisting?"

"Crateros, no doubt."

The blond furrowed his brow. "'No doubt'? I'm guessing you don't know then. It might not even be him you have to work for."

"Who _else _would it be?"

"I don't know, Percy." He pulled the younger boy up to his feet, where he threw his arms around the blue-eyed male. "You're really being a pain right now,"

"Jason, you heartless prat. Have some pity on me."

The taller boy was a little preoccupied with staring at the doorway and hoping that no one came in to witness the scene being played out in their room.

"Perseus, I need to _go_."

In an instant, the shorter boy switched from damsel in distress to perverse deprived old man. "Ooh, _Perseus._ Someone's getting _serious_."

Jason finally gave him the whack to the head he had been asking for all morning. He stepped over the fallen once-more-depressed soldier but paused in the doorway. After a moment, he shook his head and continued out of the room.

Staring after him, Percy remained laying down on the ground like a rag doll. "No matter what you say," He envisioned the large back still in the doorway, "You're still soft, Jason."

He huffed and sat up. With no one left to irritate, he found there were far too many duties to take care of. It took him less than ten minutes to get ready and head out to the main hall where he would inevitably be assigned to one of the generals as a private page for a week, as punishment for not arriving back at the soldier rooms on time.

Briefly, he wondered how things had gone on the general's end last night. He'd seemed to be in just as much of hurry as Percy was, and might have been late. He probably didn't have a punishment like a lowly soldier's, though.

When he entered the enormous room it was empty save for some guards, the king, his mother, three of his generals, and his former tutor.

He stopped at the foot of the steps to the throne and kneeled with his head low to the ground. "You called for me, my king?"

He remembered the last time he'd uttered these words, just less than a day ago, to the very same person. Interesting as that situation had turned out, Perseus was not too keen on repeating it.

"Stand, bastard." One of the guards ordered, and the boy's eyebrow twitched with irritation and mild anger. Instead of attacking the prick he settled for obeying the order silently, keeping his infuriated eyes trained on the ground. "Perseus of the third squadron, footsoldier."

"You've got yourself a page now, Hephaestion." Crateros sounded extremely proud of himself as he checked the young boy in front of him. "A little long in the tooth, but it will be better for him in certain situations."

He frowned at the ground, very, very confused. He sent a prayer that Hephaestion would explain the situation to him before he had to ask.

"Perseus."

_Thank the gods_. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm sure you're a little puzzled by the situation at hand, since Craterous is not the most informative of generals," The brunet pointedly ignored the glare being levied at him from his left. "Alexander and I are going to Alexandria on some foreign relations business and unfortunately, my page has fallen sick and is unable to come."

"And I'm to take his place?"

"Yes," He seemed pleased that Percy understood so quickly.

"And accompany _you_ and the _king _to _Egypt_?"

"And his page, yes."

"Hmm," The green-eyed boy thought. "Wait, how long is the trip going to last?"

"About a month, since it'll take a week to get there and come back. But don't worry, you won't fall behind the others in your training, and it'll be a paid leave."

"That's fine and all," Percy stopped right before the 'but' and stared pointedly at the man who had sentenced him to punishment.

The oldest blond shrugged. "I lied."

"Naturally." The soldier muttered under his breath, too quietly for anyone else to hear. "When do we depart, my lord?"

"When would be most suitable for you?" The king cut in, and Perseus felt himself smile a bit. It was easy to forget that the fierce warrior in battle was also this kind-hearted, well-meaning individual.

He held out his empty. "I have absolutely no personal belongings, sir, so I'm ready when you are." The statement seemed to strike something in the more-than-well-off generals, as all of them gave him an unreadable look. The king glanced around the room and his generals all looked down at their shoes. "Was it something I said?"

They all looked up simultaneously. "No, of course not," Cassander assured.

"You might want to get some rest for now," Hephaestion informed. "It'll take a few more hours of the day to get everything in order for our departure and travel. We will leave…?"

"At dusk." The king finished. "Be at the city gates by the time the sun sets, and then we will begin our journey."

_**P**_

The journey was not as long as Perseus had feared it would be, but it was twice as boring. They spent a majority of the trip on empty roads in one long, sleepy caravan, moving at the slowest pace animals could possible move.

The few nights they stayed at cities the group was impressed by the knowledge of the king and general when it came to understanding and speaking in the different dialects as they got further and further away from home. They would all be offered the best rooms in inns and in camps regardless of their status, making the journey a little easier.

The others, in turn, were surprised by the fact that, when they entered the African countries, how well the substitute page could speak the Middle Eastern languages. Not only was he fluent without an accent, he seemed to know all the slang and tricks in the verbiage.

When they entered the Egyptian borders he was a savior to all of them travelling together.

He was able to spread the word within hours that the Pharaoh had arrived in Egypt and by the time they had settled in at a palace it was midday and a parade had amassed at the gates. On the downside, this made it difficult for any of the famous faces to leave the building.

"And this is why we need personal assistants," Hephaestion handed the black-haired boy a slip of paper with four lines of neat scrawling. "Would you please pick up these books for me from the main library?"

Percy took the slip from him, smiling. "You know, sir, even if I _wasn't_ supposed to be your page, I would get it for you without you having to say 'please'." _Am I _flirting _with him?_

The brunet looked up from his desk with a small smile himself. "That's good to know."

_Is _he _flirting with_ me_?_ "Well then, I'll be off." As he headed down the steps towards the door, he heard his current lord call, "I only need them by the end of the day!" Meaning, the rest of the day was his to use as he pleased.

Stepping out into the foreign city, Percy stared down at the piece of paper. "I might as well get the work done before anything else."

The first thing he noticed when stepping into the street was the heat. The sun beat down mercilessly on the backs of every passerby. They were all fully covered, donning the desert-ware even within their own walls so as to protect themselves from dehydrating.

The buildings were either decades old or very, very new. Glowing white walls neighbored the cracking, dirty yellow ones. People filed out from every which way but here, it was clear; there were specific defined social classes, and everyone had a place.

He watched as men who lived almost as well as his king snubbed women twice their age but less than half as wealthy. There was nothing he could do, as a lowly foot soldier, so he distributed most of his wealth between the four women he met on his way to the library and continued towards his task.

Turning in to a shortcut through an alley, Perseus stopped dead in his tracks.

He would never have been able to discern what it was had he not been less than a foot away – the wheezing heap on the ground that looked up at him with eyes unseeing. The child raised a hand to him and he _knew_ what it was saying, _knew_ what it was asking for because he'd needed the same thing—

"Someone!" He shouted in Coptic, lifting the dirty too-skinny, too-light child into his arms and carrying him out into the searing sun. "Help this child! Where is the nearest doctor?" He yelled into the streets and suddenly, the entire world noticed them, and this dying boy in his arms, and everyone was worrying about them and helping to get him safe, to _save him_

_._

_._

_._

"—and I'm sorry, but we can only keep him here until you return with the rest of the money." The doctor repeated, gesturing to the child on the bed behind them. "I've done all I can do right now. He just needs food and rest."

The Adonis shook the doctor's hand gratefully. "Thank you for what you've done, doctor." The older man seemed to be a little surprised with him, but Perseus was honestly too emotionally drained to care.

He thanked the doctor for the nth time and walked out of the clinic with a promise to pay off a medial bill and a request to make of his king.

He sighed loudly. He'd hoped to get done with the errand for Hephaestion before anything else, and now he had less than an hour to get everything and rush it back to the palace. And, to top it all off, he had a child to worry about. A wonderful first day in Alexandria.

The clinic was (thankfully) a mere three buildings away from where Percy had found the boy, and only four blocks from the gargantuan book sanctuary. Percy found himself at the foot of the steps to the entrance half an hour to sun down, breathing hard and sweating lightly.

He stepped through the granite doors and into the building that smelled of leather and ink, that felt cooler than the world outside, that sounded much quieter than the busy street it was located on. He stood in the doorway for a moment and soaked in the feeling of _not seeing pain and discrimination everywhere he looked._

Of course, fortune favours the wise, as in bad fortune favours the idiot who 'wisely' stands in the doorway of a library he is not aware is currently occupied by a popular book council.

Percy opened his eyes as the door closed behind him to see a group of well-dressed _women_ sitting around a table stacked with books. One of them was standing with her back to him; he seemed to have interrupted her mid-speech when he'd walked in.

"And here a soldier graces us with his primitive company. Do greet him, ladies." The dark-haired maiden said, turning to give a condescending look to the lad by the door.

To their surprise, he gave them wry grin and bowed. "Evening, ladies," he said, returning to his regular state. It was so easy to hide one's troubles when he pretended he had none.

"A boy as young as you joins the king's army?"

Percy shrugged and the noblewoman took a long look at him while he took the same opportunity to observe her.

The dress she wore was a dark purple tunic seeming heavily influenced by traditional roman styles with its one shoulder strap, revealing the beginning of a tattoo on her right shoulder. It was dark against her olive skin and the same colour as her dark eyes and darker hair. Her lip was curled up in a constant slight sneer, something he found he rather liked.

The other women did no job of hiding their wandering eyes either, before the leader said, "Come to assert your dominance? You seem to have thought you could do so in this women's gathering."

"My lady, you wound me," he put a hand over his heart. "Why would I try to assert my dominance over a sex that is superior to my own?" The other women in the room burst into giggles and the leading lady pursed her lips to keep from smiling. He found himself admiring her for the obvious differences between her and the others. "I have merely come to receive the scrolls put on hold for lord Hephaestion."

"Hm." He handed one of the women a slip of paper and she, after a bit of shuffling, handed him three thick books and a scroll."There you are." Percy nodded his head in thanks. "Your name?"

"Perseus, my lady."

She didn't ask for a last name and for that, he was grateful. "Perseus. Send my regards to the royal family." She crossed her arms and watched as he hobbled over to the door while trying to balance everything in his arms.

"Of course." He paused at the door, looking back at her. "Whose regards am I sending?"

"Reyna Arellano." She turned back to her audience, ready to continue from where they had left off before the unexpected entrance.

"Well then, Lady Reyna. Thank you for your time." He waved to the ladies in the room childishly before kicking the door open with his foot and sidestepping down into the street.

He barely made his way back on time.

_Thanks for reading._

_~ctd_


	5. ε

**V**

He stood by the door, watching the children in the room play with their different toys, looking uninterested but being, in fact, very invested.

The boy still looked malnourished and underfed (as he probably had been for at least the past year), but now he seemed to have actual life in his body. He ran around with the other children in their games, stopping occasionally for breath, but resuming after his moments of rest.

Perseus found he could not take his eyes off the child.

The image of him, dying and begging on the ground, was forever scorched into his memory. Last night he had not slept even for a moment, and instead was plagued by the constant thoughts and worries. Would the boy live until morning?

But he had. Praise the gods, the boy was better, and he would live if he continued to receive the same treatment of stable food and rest.

"Are you his…brother, by any chance?"

Percy jumped at the voice breaking through his thoughts. He turned to face the doctor from the day before who was watching the same child. "No. I don't know him."

The man turned to face him, shocked. "You _don't_? Then why would you help him?"

Perseus was almost disgusted by what the man had said but only replied, "Why wouldn't I?" He knew he would not like the answer and so only paid the man what he owed and left.

Alexandria was a difficult city, after all. There was so much suffering in tradition, blind faith, hopeless mental slavery, and besides the fact that these people had absolutely no concept of human life when it was an orphan—

But did anyone, really?

He glanced up at the clear blue sky and tugged at his sleeves. "Sandstorm today."

When he stepped out onto the street he watched as people began to put up white cloths the size of walls over their doors and windows like it was an everyday task. Children slowly began to bring in the animals, cutting the sounds of street shuffling in half. All the food vendors covered their booths in towels, suppressing the smells, and headed inside the nearest buildings to wait out the storm.

"It'll be a shorter one," He heard one old lady say to another as she folded up some damp sheets. "Should only last a couple of hours, judging by this wind." OR lack thereof, indicating the intensity.

He knew he would not be able to reach the heart of the city in time, back to where his group was staying, before the storm hit. It would be suicide to start now, walking there and then not being able to find a helping home that would dare to take down their defenses for a stranger.

He smiled. _Conveniently_ enough, there was a library nearby he could probably lodge in until the winds settled. Maybe he would even find some company while there.

He hugged the thick cloth closer to his body and put up his hood. The walk to the library seemed to go much slower when there weren't people in the streets bustling every which way. He felt bare and as if he was being watched, being the only one outside.

The green-eyed boy exhaled in relief upon arriving at the marble steps to the public library. The wind was absolutely dead, meaning the storm could strike at any moment, and he was not eager on being caught in it. He pushed open the doors to the building as he had done yesterday, again mentally gaping at the architecture. He would never grow used to a sight like this.

He was surprised not to see anyone upon entry and frowned, closing the door behind him. When he stepped further in he noticed one of the bookkeepers eating something in the corner, completely entranced by a book on the floor. No wonder he hadn't heard him.

He ran a hand through his hair and pushed his hood back at the same time. The woman in purple from yesterday popped up in his head again, the girl who had been so unlike the others he had met. She seemed to be older than him but only by a little bit, more mature, and smarter by far.

As he scanned one of the shelves at the back for a book he would be interested by, the name came to his mind and to his lips. "Reyna."

"Yes, that _is_ my name," He jumped and swore at the very voice he had been remembering popping up in real life. He turned to face her with a semi-embarassed, semi-unreadable expression.

She was wearing clothes anyone would have again – a light brown robe that covered her arms and went down to her ankles, a comfortable yet protective fabric. The outfit was modest, yet there were hints of curves that the clothes could not hide. She had a braid coming over her left shoulder and down to her waist, the same colour as her eyes.

"Ah, the soldier. I thought I recognized you."

He realized he was staring and bowed low immediately. "My lady."

She touched his arm to get him to stand up straight again. "I am no lady," The brunette informed, putting the hand not carrying books on her hip. "I have no official occupation – I am merely here to spark discussion."

"Among men?" She raised an eyebrow at the implications of his comment. "Excuse me, that was uncalled for. I apologize."

"It's alright." She gave a small smirk at his half flustered one-sided conversation. "Anything you were looking for in particular?"

Both of them turned back to the shelf he'd been standing in front of for more than ten minutes. "Not really. I was just looking around."

"For something to read or someone to talk to?" His silence was enough of an answer. Shifting her books from her left to her right hand, she led the way (he assumed she wanted him to follow her) to an empty table hidden by a stack of yet-to-be-organized scrolls and pamphlets.

"Did you also come here to avoid the storm?"

"I did," She answered, sitting across from him. "I was too far away from home and this seemed a much better alternative than a shop or someone's house." She made a new stack of the three new books she had picked out to her left. "Did you deliver the books to your master?"

He tore his eyes from the leather-bound covers. "Yes. My lord found them very interesting and postponed all of today's meetings in order to finish them." He grinned at the memory of walking into his general's office and finding him still in bed, completely immersed in the scroll in his hands. "He sends his thanks."

"He seems an interesting man."

"Lord Hephaestion? Oh, he is." Percy assured. "He's completely different from the others of his status – he does not flaunt nor unnecessarily exert his power over those below him. He does not degrade servants no matter what they have done, and treats them like actual human beings." He realized he was rambling and stopped himself.

But when he looked at her, she seemed to be listening intently, resting her chin on her hand to watch him as he spoke. "Is he a nobleman?" She asked.

"Yes and no." Perseus thought, thinking about all he knew of the general. "He was born into an influential family but he himself grew to become the highest general in the army." He looked to her. "Have you not heard of him?"

"Never." She pushed her books further to the side, giving him her full attention. "Are all your generals like the one you speak of?"

He had to think about that one, too. "Not completely, but they're similar." He pulled his stool closer. "The others are not as interested in reading, but are still intelligent. They all have the same respect for others and ideas of equality, even though they were born amongst the highest circle of people."

"Remarkable," She murmured, clasping her hands together. "Tell me more about your superiors. About Macedonia."

_**P**_

"I waited out the storm in the library," He notified the older brunet. "It lasted longer than we thought, so I had to stay there until now. I got here as quickly as I could. I apologize if I caused you any trouble—"

"Perseus, its al_right_," Hephaestion said, resting his chin on his hand and smiling at the boy before him. "I was also stuck in here for the storm, so I know you could not have gotten back any earlier. I hope you found some way to pass the time."

"I did." He assured. "I met the Lady from yesterday there, and we had an interesting conversation."

"Oh?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"She did not know much about any of you," He referred to the military hierarchy. "All she knew about the king was his name. And if she is to be ruled by someone, I felt she should know more about him."

The brown-eyed man nodded in agreement. "I assume you told her about all his glory in battle?" It seemed to be the answer the advisor was expecting.

Percy surprised him. "Not exactly," He flicked his hair out of his face. "Since it does not seem to be as important to a kingdom at peace."

"Hmm,"

"I told her about what he has done for the people here; how he's made knowledge and education and medical treatment available to all, regardless of age, race, social status, or gender. I told her that he was a better king than the one they used to have."

"Can you make such a claim?" It was a question only the people who truly cared would ask, and one that Percy knew he would have to answer.

"I believe that I can."

Both of them fell silent. When it became clear that the green-eyed soldier was not going to elaborate, Hephaestion closed the books on his desk while motioning for the boy to sit across from him. "Tell me, Perseus," He watched him intently, "And you don't have to answer if you do not want to. But, tell me, where did you spend your early years?"

The look on the black-haired boy's face morphed into understanding. He always knew his superior was a clever man. All along the journey it was clear that Percy was familiar with languages not even remotely similar to their own. He seemed accustomed to tricks that helped them in the deserts of Africa and knew how to speak like a native.

He knew about the differences in the cultures and did not have any trouble at all adjusting to the changes they made to their daily schedule. Most importantly, he had seemed in awe of the Macedonian principles of the correct ways to treat people, even though they had been set for more than a decade. His entire being screamed 'foreigner' – it was only a matter of when he would be questioned about it.

"I did not spend my childhood in Macedonia, if that is what you are asking." Hephaestion seemed ready to accept the vague answer, but Percy felt he owed the man more than just that. "We – my mother and I – spent our lives in a worse place. It was never even close to how good I have it in Thebes.

"We were the scum of society, and so I learned at a young age all the right ways to do all the wrong things and, eventually, I was taken from my mother. Circumstances kept me from seeing her again and I did the only thing I could to survive – I stowed away to the capital and enrolled in the military."

He seemed surprised and a little saddened by what the boy was saying. He had never experienced such hardship and so could not relate, but he knew pain nonetheless. "Are these 'circumstances' part of the reason why you have no last name?"

"Yes. My mother was not a prostitute, like the others think. She was a good person in a bad place." He seemed like he had wanted to say that for a long time; to clear his mother's name and image, and show that she was not how people who never met her had labeled her to be.

"I'm sure she was, if she raised a son like you."

Percy sat up a little straighter, back to his not as serious self. "How sweet of you, general, to compliment my mother and I."

Hephaestion let a small smile touch his lips. He never grew tired of the boy's strange bursts of humour bordering on flirtation and found himself rather glad it had been Perseus who had been late to the soldiers' quarters that morning.

Changing the subject, he asked his page, "Have you made any friends since arriving? Besides the noble you met at the book keep."

Percy tapped his chin comically. "I'm not sure if this counts, but I _did_ become 'close acquaintances' with one of the boys who came with us."

"One of the soldiers?"

"I do not think he was a soldier," Percy said with an unreadable expression. "He seemed too…frail, you could say. Too delicate for something as barbaric as fighting."

Hephaestion detected a hint of sarcasm but politely did not bring it up. "What's his name?"

"Bagoas." Percy felt his superior's mood drop in an instant, along with the tone of his voice.

"Oh."

A change of subject would be _way_ too obvious so Perseus just chose the option to make it a little worse instead. "Do you know him?"

The advisor looked down at his hands. "Don't we all? You remember when his name was first heard by the king, do you not?"

Percy _did_ remember the story. After the crossing of a desert, the Greek army had been in the midst of celebration, feasting and brawling and fornicating with any semi-attractive being in sight. There were Persian dancers who had been brought to entertain them and amongst them was a skilled performer, who went by the name of Bagoas.

He had caught the attention of the king – and almost every other person in the vicinity – with his dancing. The intoxicated king had stood to watch him and the dancer had stopped in front of the king. A cheer erupted from the crowd, goading Alexander to kiss the provocative entertainer, and he had.

"I do now," Percy said, going through the entire situation in his mind. He had been sitting a few feet away when it had happened, silent and sober among the loud and drunk. "There were rumours that he had been taken as a lover that night." He did not need to specify by whom.

When he looked at Hephaestion, he saw something he had not expected to see. There was a strange light in his eyes, something dark and fiery. The green flames of envy.

"He had."

_Thanks for reading._

_~ctd_


	6. ζ

**VI**

"Perseus,"

The green-eyed soldier pulled his head from his hands to look at the unclothed one sprawled out on the bed beside him. His eyes were laced with red emotion, bags of desperate sleep, and they bore into the soul of the one who had called his name.

"Come." The companion beckoned from their place in the sheets. Perseus gave a look of surprise followed by incredulity at the command, before the man held out an open hand to him from where he was laying comfortably.

After a moment of hesitation Perseus turned and, shaking his head, crawled up the brunette until he was looking down at him. They gazed at each other, brown eyes to sea green, trying to read one another but failing. The silence instilled in them some sort of calm, something that gave them a reason to slow everything down.

"What is it?" His voice was barely above a raspy whisper, a volume that kept it devoid of emotion. Both of them knew something was off about them – _everything_ was off about them – and yet neither felt they wanted to bring up the topic.

"Are you alright?"

The question surprised the boy. He was not used to such a question at such a time. He had not been forced into anything, had not disliked anything, had not been wronged; yet this man had asked a question that subconsciously created a hundred more.

His hand came up to tuck a lock of black hair behind the boy's pale ear, lingering on his face for a moment that they both noticed. Perseus' hands bunched up into fists in the sheets unobtrusively at the touch.

"I am fine," He replied, looking his partner dead in the eye. "Sir."

The title seemed to poke something in the brunet. He pulled the younger boy down until he was propped up only on his elbows, their noses almost touching. They could feel each others' warm breathing, the heat from each others' bodies. He seemed to be ready to say something, but he did not.

The hand on the back of Perseus' neck pulled him down to meet the brown eyed man's lips in a fierce collision. There was no resistance from either parties. Both of them seemed equally engaged in the body contact and soon, their positions were changed with the black haired boy being the one to take the lead, leaving the brunet a slave to his every whim.

When they were both spent, the boy watched the older man sleep. He made no noise save the light regular inhales and exhales through his nose, matching the timing of the lifting and falling of his chest. It seemed as if he had no dreams at all, judging by the uniform calm on his face.

Absentmindedly, the sleepless male played with the snoozing one's hair, holding the think, long locks between his fingers. Unlike most Greeks, his superior had more brown than blond hair, showing his blood might have mixed somewhere along the line.

He kept it long and Perseus found he quite liked it that way. All the others cut their hair to like King Alexander the Great of Macedonia, a man they knew from stories and paintings and statues. And yet this man, who knew the king personally, was the complete opposite.

The soft hair slipped through his fingers but the green eyes remained on the spot where they had just been.

He knew, he had _seen_ it only days ago – the anger and envy in the general's eyes, something so unnatural for him to see in such a content being. The quietest people were the ones with the most to hide, and he had hidden jealousy.

Hephaestion was so _jealous_ of Bagoas for having lain with the king, multiple times – a performer who was probably with the king at this very moment, fulfilling him just as he had done for his master.

Green eyes traced down pale scars on the brunet's front, littering down from his chin to his ankles. He wondered how many of these scars had been taken, not out of loyalty for the king, but out of _love_ for him.

He knew it was love. He had come to terms long ago that the gentle warrior was incapable of feeling such a raw emotion for someone whom he only just _lusted _after. It was stronger, it had to be stronger – it had to be love.

"The king and his favourite," He whispered in a language no one in this land could understand.

His knuckles ached from how long he had them gripping the silk sheets beneath his pillow. He loosened them and felt the muscles in his fingers return to a more comfortable state upon being released from the torture they had been facing for almost an hour.

He looked up at the ceiling and immediately cursed at how plain it was. There was no colour, no design, no crack he could look to to distract him from his thoughts of anger and hostility.

The walls around him seemed to only feed his anxiety. They shrunk themselves around him, getting nearer and nearer to him as he tried to stifle his emotions. He pushed down within himself, suppressing the rage, the sorrow, the silence a deafening reminder in his ears.

He slipped out of the bed and pulled on a random robe, walking out of the chamber with a heavy heart and an even heavier spear. "Gods help me." He said to himself as his feet padded down the silent, empty hallway.

He threw open the first door he could find and praised Hades that it was a way to the stables, a private pathway lined with date trees. He walked up to the first one and rammed the spear right through its trunk with a loud grunt. The door creaked behind him.

Sliding the weapon beck out he walked over to the next trunk and added another hole to the others that had appeared in the span of the last week, courtesy of himself. He was surprised its leaves had not begun to wither and die yet. It was stubborn, like him.

He jerked it out and shoved the spear into the next trunk, continuing to do so until he had tired by the seventh tree. He slammed the spear shaft into the ground and leaned against it for support to rest and catch his breath.

"You're at it again." A quieter and gentler voice than his broke in through his loud gasps.

Perseus did not even need to look up to know who it was interrupting him for the third time in three days. He gripped the weapon tighter. "And I will not stop, so you can just forget about trying to make me." He snapped, then regretted. "I'm so—"

"It's alright," The smaller boy replied, stepping closer to Perseus. "But are you?"

"I am fine." The green eyed boy said to the shorter brunet, mentally warning him to keep his distance.

This was the worst possible time for anyone to talk to him. He was in the middle of his self-loathing, anger exacting process, and he needed absolutely no one to get in his way. He hated himself, he hated what he was doing, what he was becoming; he hated how he was turning into the one thing he had vowed never to become. He hated he hated he hated it _all_. In this moment, he remembered why he was a soldier.

_**P**_

"You seem unwell." She told him, looking openly concerned. Her eyes lingered on the bandages over his knuckles. They were new because he changed them every time he came, and it caught her attention.

"I am fine." He replied, glaring down at the book. He wondered how many times he had repeated that same statement in this day. He felt his share of honour at having so many worried for his wellbeing. But the raw sleepiness he felt only succeeded in dampening his mood every time he heard someone ask the question.

She furrowed her brows, but sought to change the subject. "How is Ramsey?" She knew it was the right question to ask when he put the book on the desk to answer her question.

"He's gotten much better," He told her, a little light already shining in his eyes. "He speaks so well, and learns so quickly – when I found him he was completely illiterate and knew nothing but slang and curses, and now he speaks better than most children above his age. He can read and is learning to write."

She watched him as his gestures slowly grew and grew until it seemed like the normal humorous and shameless Perseus had returned to his previously dead body, and she felt herself smile.

"He loves to talk now that he has someone who will listen. He tells me all about his mother and father and about his life when he lived under the rule of the old Pharaoh. You look beautiful when you smile. He loves to draw as well, enormous murals with ink—"

She blinked as the compliment registered in her brain a few sentences after it had been said, and she felt her concealed neck grow warm. She made no apparent reaction and only continued to smile at him while he told her all about the orphan Ramsey whom he had saved from the streets of Alexandria.

"He's an amazing child, and I would love for you to meet him. I think you would like him."

She imagined meeting the boy, finally able to see the subject of her friend's conversations for the past few days. "I would like that." She said sincerely, and the grin she received made her glad she had.

They both lapsed back into comfortable silence and continued to read, occasionally piping up when something interested them and they felt they wanted to share it with the other.

The librarian at the far side of the room watched them quietly through old eyes. She had come to know the pair rather quickly. Reyna Arellano she was already acquainted with from her sessions with the other ladies on every third day, and Perseus was just a pleasure to get to know.

She watched as they sat together, completely immersed in a book they were sharing over the table, and smiled. He always came to the library and she never shushed him when he got too loud because they were some of the few who ever came to the book keep. She appreciated the indirect company.

"Perseus." Reyna caught his attention as he began to pack up his things. The times when he came over had begun to grow shorter and shorter until they could barely have a few minutes of each other's' companionship before he had to return to his master.

"What is it?" He asked while continuing to place the books carefully in his bag.

"Perseus, look at me."

He stopped, staring down at the scroll in his hand. The hesitation was what scared her – this small gap of time where she could not see his face nor read his thoughts nor hear him speak his mind – these were the times when she was afraid.

Emerald eyes met onyx halfway. He looked up and again, she flinched at the sight of the redness of his eyes, of the bags beneath them. He was not sleeping, and she suspected he had not been for at least the past three days.

"What is happening to you?" It came out coloured with more emotion than she intended it to be but she held her ground and waited for an answer.

He felt as if his throat was filled with sand. His mind screamed _lie_ but everything else said to _tell the truth_…but he had never dumped his problems on another before and he was not about to start now, when things were going right for him.

"I don't know what you mean." He slung the pack over his shoulder and began to weave through he shelves towards the door.

"Per–" she cut herself off and began to follow him, trying to catch up. She was not going to yell his name, she was not desperate. She was only worried about the rate at which this boy was destroying himself and about the small chance anyone had of stopping him.

She could not catch up to him in time. Too quickly he had thrown open the door and disappeared into the crowds, vanishing before her very eyes.

He was quick in his step and returned to the house much faster than he thought he would. Stepping into the building he immediately felt a strange sense of dread, something he was too paranoid to ignore. He carefully went down the hall towards his own room – one he had not slept in in days – and loosened the strap of the pack on his shoulder.

It was a short process of leaving his things on the bed and undoing his outdoor robe. He dropped the brown cloth onto his chair and felt freedom, sweet air on his skin. The light thin material left his shoulders and arms blissfully bare and the light material on his legs let the breeze actually be felt.

He tightened the bandages on his hands as he walked through the door he had discovered not so long ago and upon arriving at the first undamaged tree, brought back his arm and then rammed his fist into the trunk so hard it shook.

It was not as if he could find spears lying around any time he wanted and use them for his own purpose. He had been lucky the past few days for the Egyptian guards to have been helping in protecting the king. However, they had departed this morning after seeing that the warriors that had come from Thebes were strong enough on their own.

He gave the tree another blow, then another, and then a fourth. It was an unhealthy way to let out his frustration, he knew. But there was no other way he found as convenient or as satisfying. He was hurting no one, and was bettering his skills as a soldier, so there was nothing important wrong with what he was doing.

When the door creaked open he gave a loud cry while delivering the blow, just to startle the intruder. He was about to turn around and chase the dancer away but found in his place not the servant, but the master himself.

Immediately he dropped down to one knee and hid his bruised hands behind his back. "My king," He expressed his surprise through his tone.

Alexander seemed to be in deep thought as he stared down at the boy so much younger than himself. When he finally touched a hand to his shoulder to let him stand, he spoke in a whisper. A single name, an accusation, a choice, and an urge.

"Hephaestion…"

_Thanks for reading._

_~ctd_


	7. η

**VII**

She woke to the sound of something made of metal clattering to the marble floor, followed by cursing in an African language. Heart thudding in her chest, she pinched the flame of her candle away and stepped behind a book shelf.

The intruder had noticed. He (she assumed it was a man because of his lack of finesse) stepped over whatever it was he had dropped and padded quietly away from the open window from whence he had entered.

She raised the hem of her robe and slid out the small dagger from its strap against her shin. The volume of her breathing dropped to almost nothing as she flattened herself against the walled scrolls with the hilt ready in one hand.

The sound of his exhale startled her into reflexively swinging her arm out with the blade aimed at one of the vital spots, but he had noticed her too quickly. With one hand he seized the attacking wrist and with the other, her waist. The knife glinted in the pale moonlight.

Caught, she opened her mouth, ready to scream – someone would hear her for sure, someone else living in the rooms around her, _anyone_—

"Lady Reyna?" The words came out hurried and in a tight gasp, and then the intruder took two steps away from her.

She recognized the voice in an _instant_ and somewhere deep inside her, she felt like skinning the boy soldier alive. "Perseus?"

"Yes."

She exhaled angrily and over dramatically. "What in gods' names are you doing here in the _middle_ of the _night_? You realize, this might be normal for other woman back in Macedonia, but here a man entering your chambers sets off a cacophony of bells telling you to _stab him—"_

"I know it's late, and I apologize," He was breathless. He's been running. The realization made her lose some of her anger and replace it with a small bite of worry that always seemed to seep in when he was in her head. "But this is the last chance I have."

His now visible green eyes glinted with something she couldn't quite recognize as he stepped closer, but still remained a respectful distance away. "I wanted to apologize, again, for all of the worry and irritation and inconvenience I have caused you over the past two weeks,"

"It wasn't all that bad."

"And thank you for listening to everything I have dumped on you from the second time I ever set foot in this library. You have helped me greatly these past days, and I wanted to make that clear to you."

"Are you leaving?" The words came in a sudden rush, drowning them both suddenly, although he came up for air very much earlier than she.

"We are returning to Macedon tonight, so as to avoid any unwanted crowds and parades later on today. It will speed up the journey." He recited, sounding like a recording.

She wanted to slap him. You're talking too fast, Greek! Slow down, or I will not be able to catch up, what with you going away so quickly and me, with me standing here and watching and listening and not knowing what to say.

She gripped the still unsheathed weapon tightly.

"Perseus, what happened?" When she joined him in the light it was painfully clear. His face was washed pale, almost completely devoid of any colour whatsoever. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red, laced with black bags that made him look much older than he actually was.

Oh, right. She didn't even know exactly how old he was.

"I've come to say goodbye." He was frowning now, showing some kind of emotion. It was difficult for him. He was not even pretending, not even trying to tack on the façade that he'd barely worn the last two days when she had seen him for a grand total of an hour.

"I can see that. But what happened exactly? You are – you are not being very clear." You're not answering at all, in fact. "Why are you not sleeping? Or eating? Why are you ignoring your health?"

His dry chuckle made her feel more than a little bit of anger. "What an obtrusive thing to say to a soldier." He was always good at giving scathing back handed remarks, as she had come to notice over time.

"You say you've only come to say goodbye?"

"I didn't say only." It was at this point that the smile faded away, again. Morphing off into a mixture of determination and something she could not name.

"What, then?" Her throat felt scratchy.

"You are very beautiful, Lady Reyna."

Her neck burned at the compliment. He had always managed to slip small ones easily into conversations, and each little one had affected her – but never had he been this serious. He really was leaving.

"You're beautiful and intelligent and humorous, and you could hold your own in a conversation with the most renowned scholars of the world."

"I…" She coughed. "I already know that."

"I know you do, and I wish you would believe it. Because contrary to what others have said in my time around you, I _do _believe you will become a great _Socrates_ one day. You will be amazing, and you will be an Egyptian woman all the same."

He blew his hair out of his face, too excited to actually use his hands. "You will lead women to their rights, and you'll captain a ship and sail the seas, and you'll live the life no woman has up until now."

"Why are you telling me this?"

At this point, he shrugged. "Because. You might lose some of your hard exterior without your trustee cheerleader by your side." He winked, and some of his old mirth shone in his emerald eyes.

"Do you really have so little faith in me?"

"How could I dare? I merely worry for you, like a mother hen worries for its favourite chick."

The metaphor made them both a little uncomfortable for reasons unclear to them. They chose to brush it off as if it had never been said.

"One more thing." It was the one thing she had expected, although she still felt surprised inside when the words hit her. Strange, the way human minds worked. "Would you take care of Ramsey for me?"

One side of her lip curled up at the thought. She had met the boy only once so far – and was absolutely in love with the bundle of child. "If you _insist_."

They both snorted at that. He was rubbing off on her in more ways than one.

"I must leave. The caravan must be ready by now, and they will be looking for me."

She was not prepared for the sudden body contact, nor did she know immediately what to do in reply. So she stood in the sudden embrace for a long moment, her face buried in his chest (Gods, he had grown so much in two weeks), before remembering that hugs usually went both ways. Her arms came up around him in a loose ring before they both let go.

"Hope to see you at the top of the world one day," He called form the window. He was adamant on not using the doorway, for reasons she would probably never understand.

"Assuming we live that long."

He chuckled. "Your humour never ceases to amuse me." And then he was gone.

_**P**_

Perseus made it back to the caravan just in time. The king himself was just about ready to leave without him when he had sprinted right up to his coach and sat on the drivers' seat. He received a few snorts, some head shaking, a handful of suggestive eyebrows, and then they set off on their journey through the cold and dark and sandy night.

The first few hours went by quickly.

He had always liked the weather in these darker lands, where the temperature varied from scalding to freezing in the span of a half day. Where ribbons of sand danced with the fluttery wind and brushed past his roughened skin.

It was quiet in the desert, too. Half the troupe had fallen asleep within the first half hour of their departure (which Percy could understand – after all, it _was_ the middle of the night) and the other was in no mood to engage in any conversation besides muffled grunting.

He passed the time counting the hills they passed by, and the animals he saw on those hills, and the people he saw with the animals, and everything that did not look like sand. He counted them all.

When he wasn't counting, he hummed any tune that popped into his head. His feet tapped along with the hands patting his thighs, playing to the softness in his mind.

"What are you singing?" He was cut off by the sound of the exalted dancer, who climbed off of his camel and hopped onto the drivers' seat beside the soldier.

Perseus had long since apologized for the times he had snapped at the man for intruding when he had gone on a tree massacre, but he still felt guilty. Thankfully, that guilt was what had drowned the rage he initially felt towards the brunet, leaving him with just slight discomfort.

The other party clearly had no such inner conflict. He simply stared into Perseus' eyes, patiently awaiting an answer. Percy realized that this sort of submissive behavior reminded him of someone he knew well, and he looked away.

"An old folk song."

"A lullaby?"

He really had an effeminate voice, one that could barely be heard because of the absolute lack of force in it. Percy did not hate it. He did not hate _everything_ about the dancer. "Yes."

"It doesn't sound Macedonian." Unexpectedly bold, but a plain observation.

"It isn't." The answer was the same. The brunet beside him watched his profile with that same pondering expression he always had on, the one the Greek soldiers loved to see. Percy would never say it out loud, but it did not suit the boy. It made him look stupid, which Percy was sure he was not.

"I see."

"Is that the same song you were singing yesterday?"

"Yes." Perseus wondered why the dancer never spoke to him at night. Maybe he did not want the king and his general to notice? Either way, it did not matter to him. Not much mattered to him right now, besides getting back to Macedon.

"What is it called?"

"It does not have a name."

He did not like to speak much, either. Perseus had a lot of practice with those types, however. He had never met another person as loquacious as himself and so had learned to adjust. For the quiet ones who wanted to know something, the key was to say _only what was absolutely necessary._ And then they would return until they got their full answer.

Today, it seemed that the brown eyed man was ready to ask one more question than yesterday. "Did your mother used to sing that to you?"

Ohhhhh, what a question to ask a bastard. Perseus almost sneered, but managed to keep a strong hold on his inner discourteous self. "Yes." Before he could move away. "She used to. For a time."

"Did she make the song herself?"

_Compose_, Percy corrected in his head. Compose the song herself. "Yes, she did."

"No wonder it does not sound familiar." He seemed to be in deep thought, analyzing the inner workings of this song and its inner effects on Perseus. There must have been a hidden meaning, somewhere!

Perseus' inner voices were becoming so rude and sarcastic that he was worried they would talk out of his mouth instead of his eyes one day. He bit his tongue.

"She seems like a wonderful person."

"She—" Was? Is? He hesitated on the tense, almost choked on it, and the dancer noticed. Gods, the camel rider a few meters ahead probably noticed, it was so obvious. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

He did not have any more questions tonight.

"You are not Greek, are you?"

At the Persian's question, all four of the conscious guards turned and gave him a surprised look. It was always rude to ask someone their race, _especially _if they were Greek (how dare anyone question someone else's blood?). But it must not have been the custom in Persia.

"I…" Percy could not feel rage, irritation, or even indignation. All he could feel was empty. "I don't know."

"Do you always sing that when you are bored?"

"I always sing it when I travel. It passes the time." He was eager to speak, and the others around him did not do much of that. And he did not see much of the high ranked officials they escorted, so there was no interaction of any sort there.

"Do you know any other songs?"

"Of course I do." He could hear the man's next question before it passed through his pale, delicate lips. "No, I will not sing them, Bagoas."

The brunet blinked, and it took a whole hour for the soldier to realize why. _Bagoas_. He had called him by his first name, although by some law or another, he was higher up than Perseus. _Bagoas_. He wondered if the Persian knew anything of the ones vying for his seat by the king.

The kingdom of Macedon greeted Alexander the Great with a parade worthy of the Gods. The streets were so flooded with people drowning in each other that they had to stop at the gates and let the king pass through on foot.

Not that the people would ever let their Conqueror do something so _menial_, no – the instant he stepped out beside his general, the pair was lifted into the air and carried back to the palace.

Singing and dancing and eating and drinking and loving and laughing and living; Macedon did it all so very well. And how Perseus had missed the smell of its streets, the humidity of its weather, the lightness of its atmosphere.

It did not take him long to figure out a place to visit first (since there really were not many places where he was welcome as a friend, anyway). The smell of baking wheat hit him before he saw the stall and his stomach growled in appreciation.

"Perseus!" The middle of the three sisters, who he had not seen in over half a year, greeted as she stepped out for a breath of fresh air.

"Silas," He greeted, glad to see even a single familiar face.

"_Silena,"_ She corrected, insistent on using the feminine version of her name.

"Where's—"

"The lovebirds are already inside," She answered in a considerably dampened tone.

He laughed at her change in expression, at how simple she was and at how glad he was that she was the first one he saw, the one who did not ask many questions.

_Sorry for the random sporadic updates! I'm on hiatus only because if I go on without updating for too long, I don't want people to be waiting expectantly. This was a really filler-seeming chapter but I promise it was not wasted. Thanks for reading!_

_~ctd_


	8. θ

**VIII**

The slap had been the most unexpected part of the argument to everyone in the room.

The receiver brought a calloused hand to soothe the stinging cheek, but her gaze remained focused on the spot it had been directed towards. She couldn't bring herself to look back at her father and he could not help but look away.

All was silent but the crackling of the hearth by which one of the two guest soldiers lay.

"You—" Even when addressed, Silas would not look up at her father. "You will _listen_ to your father." His own breathing came ragged, as if the slap had hurt him more than it had her. "This is not a topic up for debate."

"Then it will _never_ be," She challenged, retaining her furious disposition. Only respect kept her from meeting his eyes now. "I will never marry; I will never bear any children. I will grow old alone, with no legacy but this single bread stall—" She was cut off by her own flinch at his raised hand.

But he did not strike her again. "Dreas, Pyras," He muttered at just above a whisper. His younger daughters stiffened at his call. It took them only short moments to understand his unspoken command, and the two led the soldiers out of the hut.

It seemed that neither of the sisters was willing to speak, and Jason was always at a loss for words in these kinds of situations. They all looked to Percy for verbal relief and found him surprisingly stoic.

He noticed their gazes soon enough. "Did you two know?" _About the boy?_

Pyras shook her head, but her older sister bit her lip. "He visited once, maybe twice, a year, for the past two years."

"You _knew_?"

Her snarky attitude returned to her with Pyras' remark. "No, but I _suspected_. Didn't you find it strange that she would come out of the stall to give bread only to a single person?" She hadn't noticed. "She never took any interest in the soldiers, either. Even though she's so beautiful."

From inside the home, the sound of wood hitting the ground made them all jump. A chair had been knocked over.

"We'd better leave," Dreas – _Drew_, Percy reminded himself for the thousandth time – began to lead the quartet towards the fountain at the center of the market.

"I'll join you in a bit," Percy promised, nodding his comrade-in-arms along. When they continued on without him, he knelt down by the doorway of the bread stall and leaned against its wall where he could make out the barest hints of a conversation.

"—only accept 'equality' when it relates to the misdeeds of others, but you can't practice such a thing in your own home—"

"_Silas!"_ Her father warned, but she was through with listening to his narrow minded arguments.

"He has every quality you tell us to hope for in a man and you can't see them because you refuse to look past the color of his skin or the accent of his tongue. You refuse to look at him as an equal!"

Clattering and a gasp and the soldier instinctively straightened his back. The old man had probably knocked something else over, taking out his anger on everything but the source itself. The ensuing silence, however, did not put the boy at ease.

"_Get out._" He barely registered the words before they were repeated, this time with more force. "Get. _Out_."

Percy stood just as Silas came bursting through the curtained doorway, tears already threatening to drag kohl lines down her cheeks. She saw her friend and threw herself at him, hugging him tight and burying her reddened face in his chest. He returned the embrace with quiet murmurs.

Her father caught his eye from a sliver in the curtains, a silent plea in his eyes. Percy gave an almost unnoticeable not, though the baker had not said anything. The curtains fell closed.

"Sila – Silena," Percy rubbed her back. Around them, curious shop goers had already begun to circle them, eyes fixated on the pair. "Let's go somewhere quieter." He thought he would have to repeat the question until she nodded into his shirt, allowing him to lead her in the opposite direction of where her sisters waited.

The plaza beside the theater was completely empty, just as Percy had expected it to be. They sat on a marble bench, she with reddened features and the occasional sniffle, and he with black splotches on his uniform.

"I'm sorry about that," She apologized upon regaining her bearings, pointing at the remnants of her eye makeup.

He shrugged. "I could always say I got it in a fight for my honor."

"Against a woman?"

"A worthy opponent."

Her lips twitched at that.

"He didn't take it well, then?"

The hint of a smile disappeared just as quickly as it came. "I did not expect that kind of resistance from him. Maybe because of his job, but never because of his race."

"He isn't Greek?"

"African," She confirmed. "A Saharan nomad, who sought refuge here after a long drought. He works as a blacksmith for the Macedonian army."

If it was a Saharan, his skin must have been _much_ darker than theirs – a difference most of the younger generation could not bother to care about, but one the older generation had lived most of their lives noticing. "How long have you known him?"

"Two years."

"That long?" Percy frowned. "How did your father not notice?"

"He only began to court me half a year ago – and even then, he was raised in a household more conservative than ours; he did not want to do anything besides meeting without my father's consent."

"He sounds like a good man."

"He is." Perseus ran a hand through his hair and sighed. She watched him, her own emotions hinted at only through the creases by her eyes and mouth. "You will help me, won't you?" His eyes met hers. "You faced something similar, after all."

His temporary silence scared her. "It did not end well for us." The answer was not one to reassure her. "But I will make sure the two of you are able to marry." Her relieved thanks was unnecessary; he would have done it for her either way. "Can I meet him?"

"Of course," She hopped to her feet, her billowing dress reflecting her suddenly excited mood. "The stall is a short ways away."

_**P**_

"I expected to find you like this," The old man glanced at the soldier darkening his doorway. "So I brought something that might lighten the mood."

"You know I don't drink, Perseus."

"It's diluted," The soldier assured, seating himself across from the older man and setting the sealed jug between them. "Would you like the first sip?"

The old man eyed the flask with murder in his eyes before succumbing to the temptation and downing a swig. "You spoke to her, then?"

"She did most of the talking," He affirmed. "But she's firm in her ways. It is difficult to change her mind."

"She gets it from me." The baker might not have noticed the hint of pride in the statement.

Perseus watched the man take another sip, and then another, and then another. He stopped him at the fifth with a fact. "His skin is as dark as ink." The father of three daughters paused at the mouth of the jug. "And hers as light as parchment. They look like complete opposites when standing side by side."

"I wouldn't know." So he hadn't met him yet.

"You know I am of mixed race as well, don't you?" Percy shrugged. "Even I am not sure of which end of the earth I came from."

"This really _is_ weak wine."

"I would never lie to you, sir," He smiled. "And the boy isn't one you would regret accepting." As expected, the baker was still reluctant. "It is difficult to change your ways once they've been ingrained. But it is not impossible."

"It might be for one who lived their whole lives with them."

"Will you force your daughters to follow the same path?"

He set the jug down on the table, finally meeting Percy's eyes. "I don't know."

"You have time to figure it out." Percy smiled. "They are young – they can wait, and if you want them too, they will."

He took the jug with him when he left, leaving the baker no means of intoxication except for his own thoughts.

_**P**_

"You seem troubled."

"Not at all, sir," Percy replied too quickly, giving himself away. He pinched himself in the leg, a punishment he did not find fulfilling.

The general, pausing while reaching for a book on a particularly high shelf, gave an amused smile. "You're unusually quiet today, is all." The younger boy gave a guilty shrug before using his height to his advantage, easily pulling the book off its place and adding it to the stack in his arms. "For the last time, Perseus, I can carry my books myself."

"I know," Percy smiled, but kept a tight hold on the ones he held.

Hephaestion shook his head, continuing further down the shelf to find another script.

The green eyed boy read the title of the new addition to his load. "'Persian Culture and Custom'? Are you doing another book report, sir?"

The brunet snorted. "I wouldn't put so much effort into something for myself," He said, earning an eye roll from his former page. "Alexander is thinking of visiting the region himself, and wanted to have an advisor who might be vaguely aware of customs." He turned. "Do you know anything about Persia?"

Percy shook his head. A 'yes' might lead to a meeting with the king, something he wasn't sure he was ready for so soon after their last encounter. "But I'm sure that even if I did, you would probably have amassed more vast knowledge within a few days."

"There are no limits to your flattery, are there?" Hephaestion chuckled. "How are things with your friend, Jason? I haven't seen him with you since we returned."

"He's been working on bettering his image in front of his love's father," Percy replied, slightly miffed. "Ignoring me, while working on his love life."

"I'm sure your friendship is high on his list of priorities," Hephaestion touched the soldier's wrist.

"Tell _him_ that."

The shorter Greek smiled, stopping to pick out another title from a shelf he could actually reach. He kept it out of Percy's range, determined to carry at least _one_ book out of the library in his own hands. "I think this is everything," He counted up their collection.

"Should we get going, then?" He managed to pull the leather bound reference book from his superior's hand while he was checking out all the books, earning a small frown as they walked outside towards the palace. "Don't think about it so much, sir."

"You look like a servant."

"Who cares what I look like?" Perseus grinned. "I'm carrying these for you, aren't I?" He leaned in closer to the shorter man. "And if we want to talk about who the real servant is…" He wiggled his brows, laughing as his embarrassed general gently pushed him away.

"Incorrigible."

"But you already knew that." Percy's smile was blinding.

For probably the hundredth time in these past three weeks, Hephaestion wondered how old Perseus was. The one time he asked the boy had claimed not to know, though he'd _have_ to have some vague approximation. He looked to be in his early twenties, which would put him a little more than a decade behind the older man.

The general shuddered. If Percy really was in his early twenties, then their age difference would be frighteningly close to that between Alexander and Bagoas (a thought he was not comfortable with, at all).

He had been so engrossed in his own silence that he hadn't noticed his book keep lapse back into his, walking on in a dazed silence. He wondered what was on the soldier's mind, though he was sure it wasn't anything simple.

"Are you coming, sir?" The previously silent soldier had found himself in reality again, and was asking _him_ to come back down.

Hephaestion jogged the few steps between them. "Sorry. Got lost in my own thoughts."

"Happens sometimes," Percy agreed.

_**P**_

"Do you miss him?"

He was more than a little surprised at the question, and slightly mortified that he had no idea which 'him' she was talking about. But then he remembered that she, in fact, only knew about one of them. She waited patiently for him to mentally compose himself, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes soft but determined.

She did not fail to notice the change in his posture, the silent and deep exhale, the beginning of a frown on his features. She had waited a long time to ask the question, and now she wondered if she had brought it up at the wrong time.

"You don't have to answer that," She answered, when the creeping feeling in her stomach grew too strong. He gave her a weak smile. She read the apology on his lips before he had time to open his mouth. "Don't apologize, Percy – it's just a question."

"I'm sorry, Silena." He said anyway. She frowned at him. "I don't want to lie to you, but I don't want to talk about it either."

"And you don't have to." She assured. "It's just–" She gave a sideways glance at the darker skinned boy standing off to the side, conversing with one of his customers in a friendly tone. She didn't notice the smile until it had overtaking her face. "—I can't thank you enough."

"I didn't do anything."

"You spoke to him. Though he isn't convinced, he is going to think about it – which is more than he was willing to do three days ago. He—" Percy assumed they were talking about the object of her affection now, "thanks you, as well."

The nomad Silena had promised herself to was a tall and muscled Arab who went by the name Chenzira. He did not speak much, as he had not grown completely accustomed to the tongue yet, but the thanks he had given Percy in his own language were something he understood.

"So, Percy." She touched his shoulder. "If you have any troubles, and you don't mind spilling them to a woman—" He rolled his eyes, just the reaction she desired. "—I am here to listen."

"Thank you."

He was silent for a long time after that, but he didn't move away. She watched him wrestle with emotions for a bit, the only giveaway the occasional sigh or incoherent mutter or sudden hand through the hair. She glanced back at her courter, and his display of excellent negotiating skills.

"I do."

The answer caught her so off guard, she only understood from reading the last syllable off his lips. Her eyes drifted up to his, but they were still staring at some speck on the dirt road.

"You asked if I still miss him."

_Ah._

"I do. Terribly so."

_Thanks for reading!_

_~ctd_


	9. ι

**IX**

"It's too hot out to take a walk."

"The sun will do wonders for your complexion, love," the shorter of the pair hummed, drumming his fingers on the counter of a stall while trying to choose which flowers to buy. His fair-haired companion shot him the hundredth of many questioning looks, and the boy sighed. "What?"

"Who are we buying flowers for?"

"You've already asked that, and I've already answered; no one in particular."

"That is not a real answer, Percy."

Perseus bit his grinning lip despite himself. "Years later and you _still_ haven't grown out of that pet name."

"Are you embarrassed?"

"Never," He tossed, pointing at a small cluster of vibrant pink petals. "Those, please." The man bundled them up and handed the bunch to the soldier, thanking him for his service. As they walked further through the markets, "What now, love?"

"Stop calling me that," Jason muttered, before pointing down at the bunch. "Honestly, who are those flowers for?"

"So curious." Percy smirked, sniffing the petals and humming at the scent. "Do you like them?" Jason shrugged. "Don't get too excited, they're not for you." His companion gave him a withering glare and Percy only smiled back.

"So they _are_ for someone?"

"Yes,"

It was a victory for a blond; he took a moment to relish the feeling before moving on to the next goal. "So? Who is the latest object of your affections?"

"You make me sound like a sex-crazed maniac."

"But you _are_."

"But I'm _not_," They gave each other small glares, before Percy brushed the taller boy's cheek with flowers. "You'll get wrinkles if you frown so hard."

"Who cares?"

"The girl who will marry that face." They made their way out into the open fields, the land areas that belonged to farmers who lived far away from bustling cities. "Are you up for a walk, Jason?"

The boy shrugged. They had time.

Percy led the way down the path, whistling a tune as he went. The boy could never stay in silence for too long, but Jason had long since grown used to his strange habits. "What are you thinking so hard about?" He broke his companion out of his thoughts.

"Oh, nothing."

"Silena's marriage?" The look on his best friend's face was enough of a confirmation for Percy. "It won't be nearly as difficult for you and Pyras, I can tell you that much."

"Piper," Jason mumbled a correction, before blushing even harder at the fact that he was actually coming to his strange, strange friend for relationship/life advice. He shook off his embarrassment before continuing, "But that's not what I was thinking about, specifically."

"Then what _were_ you thinking about, specifically?"

Jason walked for a very long time before replying, not that Percy minded the silence. They were heading a long way away, anyway; they had all the time in the world in these hours. "Are you,"

Percy glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Jason stopped in the middle of the road, prompting Percy to do the same thing a few feet ahead.

"Are you sleeping with the king's right hand?"

Percy was so surprised that he made a noise at the back of his throat before he had any time to stifle it. He dropped the flowers and then caught them clumsily upside down. They were too busy staring at each other to notice the petals that broke off.

Jason's eyes widened, eyebrows raised, and mouth formed into the shape of an 'oh'. Percy couldn't even lie to the boy's face. "Oh," the blond repeated, the full realization not having hit him yet. _"Oh."_

"…is that all you can say?" Percy straightened his back and let a smirk grace his lips. Despite the awkward situation, Jason was phenomenal at turning it into an amusing one.

Unfortunately, aforementioned soldier was not feeling particularly amused. "Percy, that… isn't. I," He rubbed the back of his neck. The stepped back into a walk at the same time, always in perfect synchronization, always in perfect time. "Isn't the Gen — isn't Hephaestion with… the king?"

Percy snorted then, surprising the blond. They met gazes before Percy refocused his onto the pathway they were walking on. "Is it that obvious?"

The confirmation of the fact was _also_ news to the blond. "Oh, uh, no, actually. I just thought, because you said something about it once."

"Did I?" He gave a humorless laugh, and it sounded so _unlike_ the boy that Jason had to resist the urge to flinch. "Well, I wish I had not forgotten _that._"

"So… so you're really,"

"Yes."

"With Lord Hephaestion."

"The one and only."

A pause.

"But you're a little too late to ask about my escapades, love." The blond looked confused. Percy gave a small smile that he could not look his best friend in the eye with. "It will end as quickly as it began."

Sure, they could attribute the entire affair to being in a faraway land; after all, they did say that one forgets his shame on foreign soil. But it seemed too perfect, too precise, too clean cut for Perseus' tastes, and he did not want to think about it.

When Jason began to open his mouth, Percy cut him off with a "Don't apologize, you idiot."

The blond paused, and then, "I am sorry in any case. It was not my place to ask, nor judge." When his shorter companion did not reply, the blue eyed boy began to chew the inside of his cheek. "Percy?"

"Yes?"

"Who are those flowers for?"

This time Jason received no sigh, no hum, no sarcastic remark or cryptic reply. Percy looked up at him, his eyes filled with something Jason found he could not place. Green was always the color hardest to look past – he could read other colors just fine.

Perseus looked down at the small bundle in his hand. "I have someone I need to visit."

That was getting them _somewhere_. "Have I met her – or him, before?"

"I doubt it." They continued to walk. "Unless, of course, you've been having stranger adventures behind my back. I wouldn't put it past you." He glanced at blue from the corner of his eyes and almost laughed at Jason's expression.

"Can I at least know his or her name before we get there?" Percy made a sharp turn, suddenly, heading up the pathway to an empty lot. Jason was unsure of whether to follow him or not. "Are we allowed to go in there?"

"He won't mind," Percy called, not even turning around. The taller soldier jogged to catch up to him, glancing around out the overgrown fields as they passed. All the products had been picked, so it seemed some people were still making use of the property, but apparently not the owner himself.

"Who's," Jason paused, his eyes running over the name carved into slightly ajar front door. "Castellano?" His head jerked towards the boy who was already walking through the front door. "An Iberian?"

Percy's chuckles echoed through the house at Jason's blatant shock.

The blond followed his friend into the sparsely furnished home, ignoring (for now) the lack of furniture and yanking the dark haired Adonis back by the arm to face him. _"Percy._ An _Iberian?_"

The smile faded in an instant and for a second, the taller boy was worried that he would lose the use of the arm he was holding his friend with. But then, "Look around you, Jason."

Blue eyes hesitantly searched the main living room. "…at what?"

"Exactly," Percy lightly pushed his friend's hold off. "There is nothing for you to look at. The house is empty." The 'happy now?' seemed to rest on the tip of his tongue, but Perseus would _never _say that to Jason, and the blond knew it.

"He… is no longer here?" _Did he die?_ It was the first thought to cross his mind and it took a significant amount of time to stop thinking about.

"No," Perseus shook his head before leading the way out through the back. Jason followed with quiet curiosity, trying to piece together exactly what was going on. The shorter of the two soldiers stopped in front of an overgrown bush, one mixed with wildflowers, and tucked in his new bundle beneath it. He seemed used to the action, as if he had done so many times before.

"Is he…?"

Percy stayed silent for so long that his companion wondered if he had even heard him. When he was about to repeat the question, the green eyed boy replied, "I don't know," with a frustrated running a hand through his long hair. "He had to flee to Iberia some time ago. And I have not heard from him since."

"Flee?"

Percy's lips pursed in a cynical smile. "Rome's relations with the country have never been worse, and King Alexander has yet to amass enough power to protect them from wrath. They get picked up in the middle of the night and are never seen again, and Luke could not risk that."

_Luke Castellano_. Jason realized that he had been gifted with the name of the mysterious figure in his friend's life. First an Iberian, and then the king's right hand… "You get around well, don't you?" slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

Percy suddenly broke out into a genuine smile. "You think so, too?" He bit the inside of his cheek. "I was actually thinking the same thing a while earlier. I really _do_ spend a lot of time on others' beds, don't I?"

It crossed the blue eyed soldier's mind that _maybe_ this was not a conversation he was ready to have yet.

"Not that they themselves ever seem to mind. It's always a husband, or a wife, a former lover or a would be courtier who has a problem."

The corners of Jason's lips twitched upwards. "But what can you do? People just _want_ you all the time."

Percy turned to him, surprised, and then gave a startled laugh. "I never thought I would hear those words come out of your mouth." He shook his head, "I should take you to my former lovers' abandoned homes a lot more often, if these are the compliments I will receive."

"Don't get used to it," Jason mirrored the action. "And maybe it is not such a bad thing to get around. After all, it is never a bad thing to love and be loved by many."

The darker skinned boy tapped his chin in mock thought. "When did you become such a philosopher?"

"A lot of things happen if you don't watch closely enough, Perseus." He dodged a playful smack and led them through the skeleton house and back out to the road. "We should return to the city. It's getting late."

"Alright, _mother,_" The shorter boy laughed when his companion swatted his back. "It seems like Pyras has been rubbing off on you." When he received no denial, he looked up to actually look at his friend's face. To look at the smitten young _fool_'s expression. He gave a chuckle. "You are head over heels in love."

Still smiling, "You should try it some time."

"What makes you think I haven't?"

The look the bland gave him told him that the taller boy _knew_. Percy bit his lip.

_**P**_

"What kind of havoc have you been wreaking while you were away?" the brunette called from his balcony, looking up from his scroll for the first time all day. His sudden calling seemed to surprise the boy walking below, who stopped to try to figure out where exactly his superior's voice was coming from. "Up here, Perseus."

And finally, he was in the sight of the boy. The soldier's expression morphed into one of tinkling adoration and the man found himself more than glad to be on the receiving end of such an expression. "Lord Hephaestion," He bowed low from where he stood. "I've been a good citizen all day, if I do say so myself."

Hephaestion snorted.

"You wound me, my lord."

"Enough with the stalling; I've been waiting for someone to talk to all day." He waved for the boy to come upstairs… and then proceeded to inwardly gape as the soldier climbed up the palace's vines to get to the balcony in the least time possible.

They stared at each other for a long moment before, "You'll catch flies, my lord."

The second ranked man in the kingdom shut his mouth in embarrassment, trying to force down the blood rush in front of someone so much younger than himself. "That's dangerous," He scolded.

Perseus raised his eyebrows. "You're saying that to a _soldier_." He didn't let Hephaestion refute the argument and sat down at the shaded table across from him. "Are you all alone?"

"I have been so the entire day." He set the scroll down on the table and gave his full attention to the one sitting in front of him. "What have you been doing these hours?"

The boy shrugged. "I visited some friends. Introduced them to each other. Showed off an old home and bought some flowers."

Hephaestion could not even _begin_ to fathom how all of that pieced together into a coherent story. His confusion must have shown on his face because Perseus had on the most smug expression he had ever seen, as if the younger male had said things that way for this specific purpose. Knowing Percy, he probably had.

"And you, sir? How have you been biding your time? It must have been terribly tedious without me around to alleviate your mood."

Hephaestion was tempted to take a minute to praise the boy's modesty. "I have been busting myself with trying to learn this form of language," he nodded to the scroll on the table.

Percy took it and carefully unfurled one edge to peek inside. "Coptic?"

The brunet sat up immediately. "You know it?"

"It's the Egyptian language," Percy informed, "Although you probably already knew that. I can speak it, usually. I'm not very good."

The Macedonian general snapped his fingers. "It's no _wonder_ you managed to find your way around the country so easily. Alexander was asking about it yesterday, as well."

Perseus involuntarily flinched at the mention of his king, although (thankfully) the older man did not notice. He propped on a smile in the next instant, because he was good at things like that, and shrugged. "I know enough to get around."

Hephaestion was watching him with a look Percy could not describe until the general said, "You never cease to amaze me." He smiled, and Perseus felt everything inside of him warm. It felt wonderfully light, as if he was about to fall.

The moment was interrupted by a slow rap on Hephaestion's open door.

In the same instant that a blond head of hair peaked in, Percy was standing in a more formal position a couple of feet away from the table and looking about as professional as a soldier could. The king, noticing nothing about the atmosphere in a moment of clouded thinking, strode into the private chambers.

"Leave us now, Perseus," Alexander nodded to the solder, not unkindly, and Hephaestion, suddenly worried, nodded for the boy to obey.

The boy left the room with a heart of lead.

_Thanks for reading_

_~ctd_


End file.
